Mara Purl reviews Andrew Klavan’s “Empire of Lies”

Andrew Klavan and I met on an exceptionally warm spring morning during the LA Times Festival of Books in 2008. We were both there as authors, he as a panelist, me to do my annual signing. We’d set up the meeting ahead of time, because I’d been looking for a colleague with whom to do a panel at the Ventura Book Festival, which would occur the following July. Andrew wrote True Crime, which I’d loved in its film version with Clint Eastwood directing and starring. He’s written so much more, both as novelist and journalist.

As we sat down on benches at a campus café, market umbrella overhead, iced teas in hands, we each made those adjustments that happen when an e-mail acquaintance becomes an in-the-flesh presence. Yet what struck me first was still his fierce intelligence. He kept it kindly under wraps in polite conversation for a few moments, as adept at making small talk as he was at shifting into substantive dialogue. We did have common ground: novelists and former journalists, and an abiding interest in the written word.

We discussed our upcoming program: a panel on Women’s Fiction versus Men’s Fiction. “This is going to be great,” he said. “They’re gonna love you; me, they’ll hate. I’ll need body guards when I leave.” We laughed. Honestly I had no clue what he meant, except I knew we’d bare our sharpened foils and engage in a good old-fashioned fencing bout.

And so we did. In July there we were in the event venue facing a packed conference room. It was glorious outside, sun beaming, waves trimming the manicured beach. Yet here were all these people who kept arriving and arriving the longer we spoke. Of course, neither of us actually knew the differences between “women’s” and “men’s” fiction, which made it all the more delicious to debate the matter. And—judging from the audience questions that followed our remarks—they were intrigued not only by what we said, but by the windows we opened that gave them glimpses into how they themselves think.

And this brings me to Andrew’s book Empire of Lies. We were signing our new books after our panel. Then, as an author-to-author courtesy, we traded signed books for one another. Writing such different genres, and having so little time, I’m sure neither of us expected the other to actually read these gifted books. But almost a year later, I have finally read his, and it is full of surprises.

Surprise number one: it’s a book about love. Or should I say, Love. It’s a book about Big Love, of both the personal kind and the spiritual kind. For sure, that’s not what I expected from “men’s fiction.”

Surprise number two: it’s a book about consciousness. It kind of has to be, as it’s written in the first person. By definition we have to know what’s going on in the mind of his at-first-buttoned-down and later-gradually-unglued protagonist Jason Harrow. But Andrew can do with words what brilliant mathematicians can do with numbers: see into their infinite possibilities. Indeed his character’s reveries include a virtual tour of fractals.

Reveries? In “men’s fiction”? Yeah, but these are reveries to test the core of sanity, stretch the limits of endurance and ratchet up the level of tension to the snapping point. These reveries come while disasters uncoil in maddening slow motion, or when a suicidal mission seems the only option. And this is how the book is marketed. His New York Times review and his Clive Cussler quote focus on the tension, the plot twists, the thrill. Andrew certainly delivers these masterfully. But there’s a lot more.

It’s a book with perfect structure. It ends where it began: a man of faith and family values rediscovers that what matters most is faith and family values. He breathes these in with passionate gratitude, then exhales with newfound resolve. He’s a man whose past catches up with him, and who takes the opportunity to face it.

So it’s a book that is faith-bound. “I remembered that day[. . .]I had prayed in the chapel: Forgive me, help me. I thought of that now as the great axial moment of my life, the moment around which my soul had swung like a compass needle from misery to happiness.”

It’s also a political book, and Andrew has his own passions here, which he’s committed to sharing with us in the most intimate, authentic way possible: through the very inner workings of his character’s mind. He’ll offend some readers with his views on terrorists and the threat to freedom. He’s as unafraid to offend us as his character is unafraid to wreck his own life in the hope of saving others’. The fact that I disagree with his politics is curiously irrelevant to my enjoyment of his book. It’s an duty-bound book. (I called Andrew at one point to make sure we had particulars nailed down. He answered his phone, confirmed details, then said he was currently embedded with troops in Afghanistan, so please not to worry if I didn’t hear from him till early July. “Holy shit! Keep your head down and get off the phone!” I said. “Keep safe!”)

It’s also a parody book with barbs sharpened to lance the American media, of both the news and the entertainment varieties. I had to laugh—and wince—at his wicked send-up of William Shatner who, despite being given a fictitious name, is unavoidably recognizable. Like me, Klavan ends up rather admiring this actor who has managed to reinvent himself with self-deprecation and adroit handling of the handlers. Klavan also includes the Jennifer-Brad-Angelina pseudo-drama as a leitmotif to his text, the themes of jealousy and revenge, charisma and self-indulgence a perfect false echo to the tragic circumstances the embroil Jason Harrow and his long-lost daughter.

And it’s a book about surmounting childhood traumas. Jason Harrow’s mother tormented herself to death with those aforementioned fractals, as though living in too many quantum possibilities. Jason Harrow’s daughter has nearly grown up fatherless, denegrated by a mother filled with self-loathing. In a completely different way, I wrote about childhood trauma in my book Child Secrets, and this theme is dear to my heart. He haunts us with it here, and reminds us of what truly is most important: the journey of a pristine soul back to itself.

Probably Andrew’s and my mutual respect comes from the fact that each of us is living what we believe. Andrew is the real deal, and so is his writing. Don’t miss it. Check out http://www.AndrewKlavan.com.

Mara Purl Reviews Laurie Wagner Buyer’s “Side Canyons”

Side Canyons is a book you’ve been waiting to read, though you may not have realized it. Secretly, you’ve really always wanted to raft down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, right? For those who have not undertaken this daunting journey – and that includes me – I’ve alternated between excuses about time or money, and recognition that I may lack the raw courage to undertake the trip. I did spent six weeks at sea with shipmates as we interjected ourselves between harpoons and whales; and I did jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Yet the one rafting experience I had with my husband on the Arkansas River in Colorado was rafting-thrill enough for me.

For the metaphorical journey, however, I rejoice with Laurie Wagner Buyer and join her in stepping to the boat and climbing in. Her valuable book is the chronicle of a soul’s journey, a cognitive flight that soars overhead, paralleling the sometimes-arduous, sometimes-smooth journey of inflated rafts as they wend their way along the river that cut the Grand Canyon. With apt metaphors and a deft precision of language she shows how Soul can cut a canyon equally wide and deep through ambition and circumstance, pride and fear, past and present. What’s left at the end of this journey is a soul as polished as river rock, as pristine as aquifer water, as unfettered as the flight of the eagle.

To accomplish all this Laurie creates a dynamic new form and structure for her text. Her words seem to be flocks of birds: as prose, they amble capably, leaving signature footprints in the sand of consciousness; yet as poetry, they’re designed for flight. The prose chapters fill in needed context and clarity for the mind; the poetry then leaps off the page and takes the soul flying.

My only objection to the book is that I feel her publisher (Five Star) mistook the book’s category. They list it is as a novel. But in fact it’s a memoir, with names fictionalized. (Another excellent example of a book that fits this description is Katherine Shirek Doughtie’s Aphrodite in Jeans.)

Side Canyons is a book to keep bedside for inspiring dreams; it’s a book to take along on your summer vacation to encourage adventure; and it’s a book to keep in your library for opening at random for the rest of your life.

http://www.LaurieWagnerBuyer.com

Mara Purl Reviews Margaret Coel’s “The Eagle Catcher”

Margaret Coel spoke recently at CIPA College in Denver. An accomplished Colorado mystery writer, her undisputed stature was a draw. Then she began to speak and every fiction writer in the room tuned in with rapt attention.

She shared details of process and structure, research and theme. What stuck with me was her comment about energy. When writing her first book, she confessed she’d been unable to silence the editor in her head who kept making suggestions about improving the text even as it was trying to emerge. Though the latter part of the book flowed, those early chapters got re-written ad infinitum.  Later her professional editor would comment that the book was good — except for those early chapters, which seemed labored.

So this was her moment to discover the universal law of “flow.” This is such a favorite topic of mine that I eventually recognized it as a core value. I discovered Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s book “Flow” and excitedly called a dear friend to share with her — only to be interrupted because she was about to call me to share the same book! “Flow” is full of such synchronicity. Imagine my delight at discovering “flow” is a synonym for my last name, “Purl”! (That’ll be another blog…)

In terms of writing, the first draft is all about flow, as it letting it happen. Like a river gathering at its source, the initial energy contains a cohesion of its own. It may also contain some stray pebbles and twigs. That’s okay — they can strained out later. But the energy, if broken, is tortuous to reassemble.

Somehow, though, Margaret managed, because in that first novel “The Eagle Catcher” she invites us into a world of overlapping realities. It’s the courageous Arapaho lawyer Vicky Holden – a.k.a. Woman Alone – and the soulful Jesuit Priest John O’Malley who take center stage in a duet of integrity and vigilance. While never lecturing us, the author does present elements that instruct both in the wiser ways of tribal culture and in the damaging ways of greed.

She got both her story-telling and her river right, and I plan to visit the Wind River Reservation again.

http://www.MargaretCoel.com

Mara reviews Harley Jane Kozak’s “Dating Dead Men”

I first encountered Harley Jane Kozak at a recent book event where we were both featured authors. As former Soap-actresses-turned-novelists we decided we must have been separated at birth. Further, we both had a thing for Mary Shelley. But while I wrote a historical play on ”Frankenstein’s” author, Harley created a modern-day heroine named Wolstonecraft Shelley. How could I resist? I had to read at least one of her books!

Los Angeles is always problematic for writers. So sprawling and multi-themed as to appear if not amorphous, at least Protean: one minute a collection of exquisitely manicured gardens providing lush embraces to Spanish mansions, the next a depressing array of billboards dwarfing cracker box housse baked to a crisp in relentless sunshine.

Harley tackles this conundrum by creating a world-within-a-world outlandish enough to be unique and grounded enough to be recognizable. “Wollie” Shelley is trying to run a greeting-card business, taking part in a reality-TV-show about dating,  keeping a weather-eye on an institutionalized brother, all while thrashing her way through sleuthing, investigating a dead body and avoiding the Mob.

With her gangly, kind-hearted “Wollie” she’s pressing toward mastery of a whole new genre of her own creating: literary heroine-turned-gumshoe.  I read book one for the sake of camaraderie and curiosity. But now I’m in it for the duration. I’ve put book two in the queue.

http://www.HarleyJaneKozak.com

Milford-Haven Evolution

Milford-Haven Evolution

In case you’re new to the Milford-Haven saga, here’s how it has evolved . . .

 

RADIO

The radio drama started the whole thing. I’d always been a writer (journalist, essayist, storyist, playwright, screenwriter), and an actress. So I spent a summer in Cambria, California, performing in Gardner McKay’s brilliant two-hander Sea Marks. Not only did I love the play; I also came to be intrigued by life in a small town. The owner of the tiny local radio station approached me backstage after the show one night, inviting me to create something for local broadcast.

During the following year I became a regular performer on Days Of Our Lives and got fascinated by something else: the long form of story. So I called the radio station and asked, “How about a radio soap opera?” Turns out the owner’d always wanted to broadcast a radio soap. So I hit the keyboard, wrote the first several episodes and sent them. Then I got no response. Turns out, he’d sold the station. But when I proposed finding my own sponsors, the new owners were wildly enthusiastic. Milford-Haven was a local hit from day one. Eventually I got it on the air in other U.S. cities as well, and was working toward syndication.

Syndicators loved the show; they just didn’t know what to do with it. “The numbers are bad,” they explained. “Isn’t that because the numbers are ‘zero’?” I asked. After all, there was no radio drama on the air. So what numbers could they check? While this befuddlement was taking place, the BBC had heard about this little American show and were trying to find me. (This was L.B.G., if you can imagine Life Before Google.) Two Brits accosted me at the NAB (National Association of Broadcasters) convention and two weeks later I had a contract.

Milford-Haven U.S.A.  — fifty percent re-written and re-cast — became the first American radio serial ever broadcast by the Beeb. We didn’t know if it would work, competing with the tried-and-true, superb British offerings. But six weeks in, I got a call. “You might like to pop over. It’s doing rather well!” I did “pop over” to London and was in every newspaper and on every talk show. We had 4.5 million listeners on BBC Radio 5 — a bonafide hit.

For U.K. listeners, the show was a trip to the Central Coast of California. It was a true radio soap, with criss-crossing storylines, multiple romances, and an underpinning of serious and well-researched environmental issues. It was a picture postcard of the 90s, when a surging movement away from city-centric angst and pollution took millions to small towns. But as the population of Milford-Haven grew, so did its calamities, all the more intriguing from a dramatic perspective. With its finger on the pulse of a trend that swept not only the U.S., but other countries, the slogan of the show still has a certain resonance: Global Complexities; Small Town Simplicities. www.MilfordHaven.com

BOOKS

While the show was on the BBC, inquiries about possible novels began to pour in. Eventually this was enough of a tsunami that Random House made an offer. When that didn’t work (and that’s a story in itself), a small press was being born at just the right time. Haven Books started as a small artists’ collective with five authors and their five separate publishing projects. We all pooled our resources, created an advisory board of publishing experts, and got started. Most of us are still on board and you can see our books at www.HavenBooks.net.

When it came to publishing my novels, we knew we were breaking ground. A serial novel? Well, that hadn’t been done since Charles Dickens first wrote chapter-installments that were later collected into huge single volumes. We decided we’d best do test-marketing editions of the first few novels. We gathered a tremendous amount of data from our core readers and focus groups. Then we found we couldn’t keep word from spreading. These simply-bound script-adaptations with single-color-line-drawing covers—which were never intended to last, nor to circulate widely—captured enough of an audience that libraries and bookstores started to request them.

So a larger independent publishing venture started. Each book has now been published for “real”. And each of the books has now won multiple awards, which sure is encouraging. What’s intriguing to me is that I thought I was writing fiction, but discovered along the way that I’m writing Women’s Fiction. What’s that? Well, that’s a whole other discussion, one in which I engage readers and listeners at panels, talks, and author tea events. You might enjoy joining that discussion either here at my blog, or at my Facebook group Mara Purl Readers.

So . . .there will be twelve novels in all, which will keep me busy for a while. And by the way, we’ve come full circle back to audio with audio books. More about that in a future blog.

For now, you can buy episodes, novels, or audio books. In whatever form, I hope you enjoy your visits to . . . Milford-Haven.

Heart of the Matter

February might be described as the month of the heart. Since “heart” is one of my favorite subjects to write, speak and think about, I wondered how “matters of the heart” might apply to publishing. I often begin a rumination with the detailed study of a word and its etymology. That, however, is a “head” approach. This time I wanted to start with the “heart,” which seems more immediately accessed by idiom. So here are some common expressions that offer some sub-text:

1. Is your heart in it? This is the first thing I ask myself about a publishing venture. Frankly, writing something and seeing it through to publication is just too arduous, unless my heart’s really in it. I know I’ll need my passion to see it through. Do I love what I’m writing about? Do I desire to have my message reach others and inspire them? If my heart’s not in it, I won’t be satisfied. Neither will my readers.

2. Get to the heart of the matter. What’s my book really about? Erin Gray and I thought our book Act Right was about the acting business, but it turned out also to be about collaboration. I remind myself to think deeply enough about my subject that I know not only its first level of meaning, but at least three more levels below that. And my editor reminds me to leave out what is not really part of your book.

3. Speak from the Heart. Audiences have an uncanny way of knowing whether I’m just speaking from the head, or whether I really have something heartfelt to say. All I have to do is look in their faces and I know . . .

4. Has a disappointment made me heartsick? Yes, sometimes. Mentors help me find a work-around that provides a whole new perspective. The publishing field has its share of hard knocks. I might as well learn from my mistakes, get help, and help others.

5. Is my finger on the pulse of my demographic? This has been a huge breakthrough for me in writing my novels. Do I understand what makes my readers’ hearts tick? With every event, I learn more. I ask where they go, what they enjoy, and how I can meet their need—rather than asking them to meet mine.

6. Is my heart open to new ideas? It’s a new year with new market conditions. Am I marketing my book the same old way? I attend seminars – like the CIPA College sessions coming up next month (and I’ll be speaking there too.) It’s so fantastic to feed both head and heart with the latest and smartest ideas about our constantly evolving publishing industry.

This is adapted from my monthly column for CIPA, the Colorado Independent Publishers Association.

A Milford-Haven Novels Recap

Update from Milford-Haven . . .

If you’re a reader of the Milford-Haven saga, this is a brief plot recap thus far. Don’t spoil your fun by reading this if you haven’t started the series! Instead, visit www.HavenBooks.net and explore.

What the Heart Knows — A Milford-Haven Novel — Book One . . . The peaceful coastal town of Milford-Haven is unaware that reporter Chris Christian is being murdered while investigating a half-built house on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Artist Miranda Jones encounters oil magnate Zack Calvin who might be the man of her dreams and takes him to the Cove. Meanwhile on Main Street, Sally is dishing up home cooking and perfecting her eavesdropping on everything from Jack Sawyer’s nefarious building practices to Environmental Planning Commissioner Samantha Hugo’s secret journal.

Closer Than You Think — A Milford-Haven Novel — Book Two . . . With the disappearance of beautiful reporter Chris Christian, Deputy Delmar Johnson searches the Central Coast for clues, while the Doobie Brothers give a sold-out concert at the Central Coast Bowl against a web of complex relationships backstage. And in the town of Milford-Haven, Jack Sawyer’s building schemes threaten the environment, Sally O’Mally’s eavesdropping undermines careers, Zack Calvin’s indiscretions entangle both Miranda Jones and Cynthia Radcliffe, and Miranda would do anything to ease the anguish of secrets locked away in Samantha Hugo’s journal….

Child Secrets — A Milford-Haven Novel — Book Three . . .Probing the Central Coast for missing reporter Chris Christian, Deputy Delmar Johnson encounters a badly beaten Stacey Chernak and suspects a connection to his case. Just hours after his romance with Miranda Jones ignites, Zack Calvin’s life is endangered by a powerful underwater explosion just off the Santa Barbara coastline. Meanwhile Sally O’Mally flees Milford-Haven to decide the fate of her unborn child; Jack Sawyer reacts to the revelation of a life-long secret; and Susan Winslow considers breaking and entering to discover secrets locked away in Samantha Hugo’s journal….

Cause and Conscience — A Milford-Haven Novel — Book Four . . . Hoping for a break in the case of missing reporter Chris Christian, Deputy Delmar Johnson is encouraged when her journal is discovered inside her abandoned car. Painter Miranda Jones leaves Milford-Haven for a month in Alaska, where she teaches, paints, poses almost nude for a captivating mentor, camps and travels extensively with astronomer Cornelius Smith, and has a near-death experience in a kayak on Kachemak Bay. Zack is home from the hospital, but nothing seems right; he misses Miranda, but is still entangled with Cynthia. Meanwhile Sally O’Mally, back home with Mama in Arkansas, finally ties the knot with the love of her life, Tony Fiorentino. In her journal, Samantha Hugo tackles the deep issues her conscience refuses to let her outrun: the son she gave up, and the marriage she deserted.

Nobody’s Fault — A Milford-Haven Novel — Book Five . . . Up Next! Milford-Haven suffers an earthquake . . . and much more.

Sleeping with Angels

SLEEPING WITH ANGELS

My bed is gloriously huge and flat. So firm I’m sometimes tempted to use it for a desk, somehow it mysteriously allows me to float for hours on its foam core as though drifting away on clouds. And then there’s the perfection of pillows. Down-envelopes of varying firmness and size surround my tired limbs, cushioning my fall into the subconscious depths. When the whole arrangement is topped with a down comforter, I’m enveloped in faerie-feathers as I’m spirited away from the known world. Masking all but the loudest of the big city noises, from my night stand an electronic brook gurgles in my stream of consciousness.

For many years, I had the privilege of sleeping with Kitty. Sometimes she’d curl around my outstretched arm and I’d fall asleep with my hand in a purring fur hat. Sometimes she was a fur collar, and on occasion she’d wedge herself between my legs, pinning me to the mattress for the duration. My favorite visits were those when she’d drape herself along my upturned shoulder and purr into my ear.

But sleeping alone has its charms. As I burrow into my nightly magic carpet, my last thoughts are of gratitude to the Goddess of Beds who obviously influenced all the manufacturers involved with foam and down. And I thank Her for such perfect guidance during my shopping forays.

It’s in the middle of the night that the magic really works. When the Muse taps my shoulder at two a.m. my foam releases me just enough to let me reach pad and pencil, then ushers me back into the theatre for the remainder of the evening’s program. When it’s the Night of the Wild Leg, the expanse of uninhabited mattress is unperturbed alike by arabesque or karate kick. And the sorting and sifting of the past day’s events is transformed alchemically into texts of silver, images of gold.

I can’t say it was wonderful to wake alone that morning in January of 1994. As the Northridge Quake hurled a lamp at my head and ejected my grandmother’s crystal from the not-so-distance kitchen cabinet, there wasn’t enough light to see my own hand, nor was there any comfort as I rode aftershocks in the dark hours till dawn.

When I married, my husband and I established a second home and shopped for the appropriate down and foam. We came up with a close approximation and the configuration seemed correct. In the first weeks of cohabiting, his movements startled and his snores snatched me from slumber. With our commuting marriage, I began to dream of my distant bed, longing for its solitary comforts never more than two weeks away.

But then there was the night I watched a late movie, a tale of nuclear war. Terrified, I couldn’t stop shivering. My husband held me through the gloom, the finest comfort in life. When we’ve read our books till our heads are nodding, we turn off lamps and snuggle limb to limb, matched shapes listening to the night sounds. We reach for one another’s hands before dawn. As though we’re on a first high school date, we clutch fingers furtively, or boldly dance palm-to-palm.

It’s a gift, those nights of drifting alone on clouds. But nothing compares to sleeping with angels.

©2003 by Mara Purl

Resolution

As the new year begins, my mind automatically turns to the notion of resolutions. Using the flip of the calendar as a good excuse for a fresh start, I think about what changes I want to make and determine to enact Big Things. The trouble seems to be that by the end of the first quarter—or even the first week—I’ve either forgotten or dismissed my grandiose notions of transformation.

            I like to get to the bottom of things by researching the etymology of whatever word is the current focus. So I was fascinated to discover the Latin root of “resolve” is “solvere,” meaning to loosen or dissolve. Now that would be a great way to face challenges this year: just dissolve them.

            So I worked through the word one definition at a time:

1. “To separate or break up into constituent parts or elements.” What if my book isn’t selling well? How do I fix that? Break up the book project into its constituent elements and tackle them one by one. Actually I did have quite a breakthrough this past year by looking more closely at my demographic. Instead of thinking in the old “author-centric” paradigm, I shifted to “reader-centric.” So I asked, what are my readers already doing that they enjoy? How can I bring my book to them, rather than getting them to a bookstore to find my book? My team and I created a whole new kind of author-reader event.

            2. “To transform, as by analysis.” This suggests I have it in my power to transform my project by analyzing its components. Here’s where fellow members of organizations like CIPA can help with practical advice. I thought more expansively about trading services with others pros, like accountants, editors, web designers.

            3. “To declare or decide.” A declaration involves such dynamic language that it actually brings something into existence. For example, it’s not the Description of Independence, it’s the Declaration of Independence. A declaration has huge implications and consequences. Am I ready to declare myself as an author committed to my work, declare that my book projects must achieve a level of writing that makes a difference to readers?

            4. Then I thought of the word in terms of optics and graphical imagery. High resolution is required for excellent printing. And isn’t “excellence” really what I’m after in all aspects of my work—editorial, graphical, and marketing? That means, among other things, finding my readers and focusing on them, providing them a “high res” product they find delightful, indispensable, recommendable.

            5. “To form a purpose, to resolve on a better course of life.” That was humbling. How would my writing and publishing work help me to choose a better course for my life? How would my books help my readers to choose a better course for their lives? I resolved to make time during January to write down a new version of a core mission statement, and to work this year toward writing that will move and inspire readers. That seemed a good way to start the year with a “high” resolution.

 

This is adapted from my monthly column for CIPA – Colorado Independent Publishers Association.

 

Hello world!

Web log . . . weblog . . . we blog . . . this is who we are in 2009, a people who share thoughts from the inane to the sublime. I’ve journaled all my life, but privately. So please be patient as I get the hang of this public journaling. May all our blogging help us transform the troubling elements of these challenging times . . .